up as the party approached the island, which is known to be a dangerous landing site.
The yacht, tossed about in the wind and rain, as well as the erratic tides that always surround the island, apparently struck a rock or some other underwater obstruction of substance and sustained major damage. The yacht began to list severely from the inflow of water. Mr. Brewster’s guests, with the help of two guards of the island and Castle, all managed to either swim or take the small dinghy to the island.
It was not discovered until the yacht had sunk from view that Mr. Horatio Brewster was not among those who had escaped the sinking vessel and found safety on land. A search was instituted, but was hampered by the storm. As of this date, Mr. Horatio Brewster’s body has not been found, though he is assumed to be deceased, according to the authorities.
The other guests on board, Mr. Elgin Prinney, Esq., of Voorburg; Major Jonathan Winslow, businessman of Voorburg; Mr. Fred Eggers, businessman of Poughkeepsie; Mr. Charles Winningham, banker of New York City; Mr. Claude Cooke of New York City, and Mr. David Kessler, the editor of the Voorburg-on-Hudson Times, were all unharmed except for the most minor injuries.
Jack read the article several times and then copied it out by hand, telling himself it was for his own reference, but thinking he might later share it with the Brewsters. Then he looked through the rest of that issue. Squeezed in here and there between advertisements, club meeting announcements and pictures of an eyesore of a house in town being torn down by a wrecking ball, Jack found a short interview with some of the others who had been aboard the Happy Times. Mr. Elgin Prinney expressed his sorrow at having lost an old and valued client, but said nothing of the accident himself except to say that it would be inappropriate to comment before the proper authorities had conducted a thorough investigation into the unfortunate circumstances.
“Ever the lawyer,“ Jack snorted. He liked Prinney well enough, but knew the old boy was as closemouthed as a clam.
Major Jonathan Winslow had been a little bit more forthcoming. After a proper remark of grief about losing a long-time friend, next-door neighbor and occasional business partner, he said that he’d been surprised to learn that Mr. Brewster had not been aboard the small boat that had been hastily lowered into the river. He had observed Brewster releasing the boat and helping guests aboard and assumed he had gone with them. Major Winslow, an excellent swimmer, had preferred, as had Mr. Eggers, to take his chances in the water rather than in another watercraft.
Mr. Fred Eggers said he was too upset about the incident to make any comment at this time and Mr. Charles Winningham of New York City had returned to the City and couldn’t be reached. Neither could Mr. Claude Cooke.
No hint of foul play. But then, Kessler had was a cousin by marriage to the chief of police, who was a bumbler, a boozer and a bully. Maybe Kessler had been asked to keep quiet about the nature of the death. That would be in keeping with his stodgy outlook.
Sitting on a great story and not saying, or hinting, anything without permission.
Jack read on. Mr. Kessler, as participant and writer of the article, limited himself to saying merely that it was a very sad tragedy.
Jack grinned as he ran a pencil through the words ‘very sad’ and wrote in the margin ‘tautology.’ He hadn’t taken all those grammar classes for nothing. Sooner or later, he’d get a chance to mention that to Kessler.
“I think the Duesenberg might be able to work if I get gas for it,“ Robert was saying to Lily. “One of the workmen with a truck agreed to drive me to town to get some.“
“Who’s paying for it?“ Lily asked.
Robert looked surprised. “Why, Mr. Prune, out of the trust, I assume.“
“Don’t assume. Take along a dollar,“ Lily said. “And please stop calling him Mr. Prune.”
Robert
The yacht, tossed about in the wind and rain, as well as the erratic tides that always surround the island, apparently struck a rock or some other underwater obstruction of substance and sustained major damage. The yacht began to list severely from the inflow of water. Mr. Brewster’s guests, with the help of two guards of the island and Castle, all managed to either swim or take the small dinghy to the island.
It was not discovered until the yacht had sunk from view that Mr. Horatio Brewster was not among those who had escaped the sinking vessel and found safety on land. A search was instituted, but was hampered by the storm. As of this date, Mr. Horatio Brewster’s body has not been found, though he is assumed to be deceased, according to the authorities.
The other guests on board, Mr. Elgin Prinney, Esq., of Voorburg; Major Jonathan Winslow, businessman of Voorburg; Mr. Fred Eggers, businessman of Poughkeepsie; Mr. Charles Winningham, banker of New York City; Mr. Claude Cooke of New York City, and Mr. David Kessler, the editor of the Voorburg-on-Hudson Times, were all unharmed except for the most minor injuries.
Jack read the article several times and then copied it out by hand, telling himself it was for his own reference, but thinking he might later share it with the Brewsters. Then he looked through the rest of that issue. Squeezed in here and there between advertisements, club meeting announcements and pictures of an eyesore of a house in town being torn down by a wrecking ball, Jack found a short interview with some of the others who had been aboard the Happy Times. Mr. Elgin Prinney expressed his sorrow at having lost an old and valued client, but said nothing of the accident himself except to say that it would be inappropriate to comment before the proper authorities had conducted a thorough investigation into the unfortunate circumstances.
“Ever the lawyer,“ Jack snorted. He liked Prinney well enough, but knew the old boy was as closemouthed as a clam.
Major Jonathan Winslow had been a little bit more forthcoming. After a proper remark of grief about losing a long-time friend, next-door neighbor and occasional business partner, he said that he’d been surprised to learn that Mr. Brewster had not been aboard the small boat that had been hastily lowered into the river. He had observed Brewster releasing the boat and helping guests aboard and assumed he had gone with them. Major Winslow, an excellent swimmer, had preferred, as had Mr. Eggers, to take his chances in the water rather than in another watercraft.
Mr. Fred Eggers said he was too upset about the incident to make any comment at this time and Mr. Charles Winningham of New York City had returned to the City and couldn’t be reached. Neither could Mr. Claude Cooke.
No hint of foul play. But then, Kessler had was a cousin by marriage to the chief of police, who was a bumbler, a boozer and a bully. Maybe Kessler had been asked to keep quiet about the nature of the death. That would be in keeping with his stodgy outlook.
Sitting on a great story and not saying, or hinting, anything without permission.
Jack read on. Mr. Kessler, as participant and writer of the article, limited himself to saying merely that it was a very sad tragedy.
Jack grinned as he ran a pencil through the words ‘very sad’ and wrote in the margin ‘tautology.’ He hadn’t taken all those grammar classes for nothing. Sooner or later, he’d get a chance to mention that to Kessler.
“I think the Duesenberg might be able to work if I get gas for it,“ Robert was saying to Lily. “One of the workmen with a truck agreed to drive me to town to get some.“
“Who’s paying for it?“ Lily asked.
Robert looked surprised. “Why, Mr. Prune, out of the trust, I assume.“
“Don’t assume. Take along a dollar,“ Lily said. “And please stop calling him Mr. Prune.”
Robert
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